Chapter 3
Melody
It’s way too early for this. I set my alarm for 6 A.M., but I hit snooze one too many times so now I’m running behind schedule. I’m nervous, but I have a good feeling about this job. Brooke just seems so nice and I’m looking forward to working someplace where I have some independence.
All the other jobs I’ve ever had, I always had someone breathing down my neck to make sure I did my job right. But here, I have freedom. The pay is phenomenal and being surrounded by books is another plus.
Once I’m all ready, my makeup lightly done, I leave the house realizing that I have no time to stop at the little coffee shop next to my new job. Oh well, guess I have to power through the day. I get in my car, blast some music, and make my way into town.
I show up a few minutes early, thank god—a habit I picked up from my mom. It’s better to be early than late, she always used to say, and it’s been instilled in me ever since.
I walk through the door to One More Chapter and find Brooke with a sage colored cart full of books. The morning sun is casting light within the store, creating a feeling of nostalgia and bliss. The sweet aroma of coffee is in the air, and I instantly regret not waking up earlier to get my coffee fix.
“Hey girl! I’m so glad you made it! There’s a coffee machine behind the counter and creamer in the mini fridge if you want to help yourself before we get started,” she says excitedly.
“Oh my god, thank you. I woke up late today and didn’t have time to stop. You’re a lifesaver!”
“No problem! Feel free to help yourself to coffee or water in the fridge during your shifts too. I buy it specifically for us. Can’t be surviving without coffee these days!”
“Isn’t that the truth. Thank you again, I truly appreciate it.”
“Once you’re done getting your coffee, come over by me and I’ll show you the ropes on stocking the books and displays.”
We spend the next hour going through how to scan the books and categorize them throughout the store. I’m also shown how to stock the merchandise. They have everything from coffee mugs, candles, bookmarks, stickers, tote bags, and even vibrators by the spicy section of the store.
She shows me the storage room where all the books and merchandise are kept. It’ll be my responsibility to keep the store stocked during my shifts, but other than that, the job itself seems easy enough. Brooke even let me know during slow periods, if all tasks are done and caught up on, I can bring a book to read during my shift; preferably a book in the store so I have recommendations for customers that ask for them. I don’t know how this job could get any better, but I am completely sold!
Brooke has to be the sweetest boss I’ve ever had. Even though she’s younger than me, she seems like an old soul. I’ve learned quite a bit about her from our morning learning the ropes. Brooke majored in English and is twenty-three years old. Her and her brother were adopted by their aunt and uncle when they were little and lost their parents to a car accident. She opened the bookstore immediately after college and never looked back. She’s the youngest of her siblings. Apparently, her aunt and uncle also took in two other boys, both older than her. Brooke also mentioned that her biological brother was a significant help to getting the bookshop up and running, helping her fund the opening inventory order and completely renovating the space to what it is now.
“So tell me a little more about you, girl,” she queries.
“Not much to tell other than I’m an only child from a wealthy family. I’m twenty-eight years old. My parents have raised me to present myself by their standards, so you can imagine how upset they were when I got my piercings and tattoos. I ruined their perfect little princess,” I reply, sarcasm dripping from my last sentence and a chuckle slipping past my lips.
“I was once pursuing a degree in criminal law, but I haven’t worked in the field in over a year now. I wanted to find something I loved doing. It upsets my parents that I’m not going back into law, but oh well.” I shrug my shoulders while taking a sip of my coffee.
“Sounds like you were raised with some pretty high standards. Any love interest in your life?” she asks while waggling her eyebrows.
“HA, definitely not. I am A-OK being single. I was engaged at one point, but that’s a story for another time.”
“WOW! I can’t wait to hear that one. Guy must have been quite the douche to let you go.”
“Something like that,” I reply.
“You should get back out there! Date around a bit!” she suggests.
“I’ve thought about it… but I don’t even know if I know how to flirt anymore, it’s been so long since I dated anyone.”
“Well, you never know until you try. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike,” she says slyly with a wink.
“True… maybe I’ll give it a chance… we’ll see,” I hesitantly reply. I’m not ready to dive into this conversation, and I think she gets the hint, because next thing you know she’s switching the topic back to the store.
“So, what made you want to work here of all places then?”
“My love for books. Specifically, romance. I was desperate for a job too. It just worked out that I saw the hiring sign in your window, like divine intervention.”
“I totally believe in that stuff! I think it was definitely fate. We are going to be best friends! Just you watch!”
I’m a little caught off guard by her statement as it’s only my first day, but Brooke has such an infectious personality. I would be lying if I said I couldn’t see us being fast friends. I just hope that I can be a good enough friend. I’ve spent so long pushing people away, I don’t know if I can be what people need... what people want.
After my shift is over, I head straight home. Brooke’s words from earlier in the day resonate in my mind. Maybe I should open up my Tinder and just see what’s out there. As I heat up my leftover spaghetti and pour myself a generous glass of wine, I re-download Tinder from the Cloud. I haven’t used it since before Brian and I started dating… it’s been so long.
My phone pings, signaling the download has completed; I grab my spaghetti and wine, my comfy blanket, and curl up on the couch. As I eat, I log into my Tinder and start scrolling. After realizing that I have to pay to see my likes and actually message people, I get up to get my wallet.
As I pass my front windows, something catches my eye in my peripheral vision, but when I look over, it’s gone. I am really starting to lose it… I could have sworn I saw a person across the street, staring at my house. I get a wave of the chills. I shake it off and grab my wallet. I swing by the front door on my way to make sure it’s locked and the deadbolt is activated before doing the same for the back door.
Never can be too safe.
Once I have Tinder paid for, I start scrolling. Some of these men make me almost snort out my wine. I’m swiping left far more than I am swiping right. I can’t help but start to feel discouraged. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this… I get up quickly and pour myself another glass of wine. Sweet red wine, or any dessert wine really, is my favorite drink in the evenings to unwind. Satisfied with my over generous pour, I head back to the couch and continue swiping and viewing profiles. Seriously, some of these men are just audacious in their pursuit of a female body to warm their bed.
As the wine loosens me up, I can’t help the giggles that are slipping past my otherwise cool and collected exterior. Figuring it’s getting late, I go through a few more swipes for the night. Going back to review all the men I swiped right on, I find the folder empty. What the heck?! The app must have a bug.
Before I throw my phone down on the couch with frustration, I exit the app, force close it, and open it back up. Maybe that’ll reset it or something. The first person to populate on my feed has my mouth popping open with a silent woooooow. He has short-cut, black hair, a short beard that appears well kept and trimmed, light blue almost silver eyes, and pierced ears. I’m assuming he’s also covered in tattoos by the few that are inked on his neck peeking from his shirt. The man is mouth watering—a straight up Adonis.
Now that the picture has intrigued me, I click on it to view his profile. I’m not too surprised by what I find first; he loves motorcycles and sports cars. I could have easily pegged him for that type by his looks alone. I keep scrolling to look at his details. What I am surprised by is that he labeled himself as a Potterhead. I’m impressed. Those books made me discover my love for reading. His name is Jaxon, he’s twenty-nine-years-old—only one year older than me—and is looking for a monogamous relationship. Hmm, not sure if I’m ready for a full-on relationship though.
Going out on a limb, I decide to scroll up and officially swipe right on him. It’s a long shot with him being so gorgeous and me being… well, me. I swirl my wine and take another sip.
Before I can even set my wine down, I see an alert light up my phone screen with a notification that I’ve been matched. Nervousness blossoms in my stomach, but it’s quickly replaced by a liquid courage burning it away with each sip of my wine. I open the app and go to my notifications. I click on the match alert and almost drop my wine.
What are the chances? No, seriously. What are the chances that it’s the hottie that is tatted and pierced? Is it a full moon tonight? I’m spiraling. This can’t be happening. Any liquid courage I had is officially gone. I’m definitely not even in his league. You would think someone like him should be with a skinny blonde with perky tits who has an equal love for fast vehicles.
Thinking it’s probably a mistake, I exit Tinder and hold down my finger on the app icon. The options quickly display, and I immediately click “delete app”. I’m hyperventilating, my anxiety is through the roof.
I can’t do this.